


The Room

by ForAnything6



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForAnything6/pseuds/ForAnything6
Summary: It's been two years of the room once a week every week. But it's the first time she's seen him here, looking so confident and happy, so out of place in a group therapy. Katniss Everdeen is a celebrity, the media has followed her sob story for years, she's a symbol of everything that used to be wrong with the country. It's been years since the death of her sister and she doesn't think she'll ever find peace with it, until she meets Peeta Mellark. Set in a more modern Panem without The Hunger Games, post-revolution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, welcome to my first Hunger Games fanfiction! I know that I'm a few years late to the party, but I recently reread the books and started thinking of different ways things could have been. They're 22 here, and a lot of things have changed. This will probably be a relatively short story, maybe five chapters? This chapter is pretty short just to see if anyone's still reading. Let me know if you have any interest in the story, or if you find any grammar/continuity errors- that honestly just proves that someone's reading it. Hope you enjoy!

It was impossible to hate the room. The nurses and doctors use a complex algorithm of psychology for the furniture, the color scheme, the lighting, every little detail had been analyzed and micromanaged nearly as much as the people sitting before her. The average person would only ever feel good things about the room.  


Katniss Everdeen was not an average person. Even still, she couldn’t hate the room. She could analyze it though; she could reject the good feelings it should have invoked. She had been trained for years in the art of surveillance, the art of figuring out what made people tick. What was making all these people tick was their overabundance of feelings. They wanted to make her feel better, they wanted to heal her. That’s an easy thing to say, not a very easy thing to do. All these stupid doctors and nurses wanted to do was coddle her, pacify her, walk on eggshells. She was sick of it.  


Coming here once a week was really the only option she could stand. Even if she hadn’t have been involved in a traumatic accident, her emotional instable mother genetically guaranteed her a spot on Panem’s watchlist. One mistake in these stupid meetings and they would probably try to institutionalize her. Once a week among the nation’s top shrinks is bad, 24/7 would probably push her towards the emotional instability that all the doctors believe her genetics would inevitably lead to.  


Not to knock the newly installed mental healthcare system, it was great that the new government cared enough to provide the free group therapy. But it felt easier to just block out the woman’s droning voice, to focus on the people in the room rather than the same mantra she felt every week. There’s a high turnover rate in this group, it could be because group sessions every day and not everyone had the flexibility which her schedule had, however, it feels more like people are being constantly replaced and rearranged. Gone was the woman, Wiress, whom had sat directly across from her last week, twisting a golden wire, murmuring “tick-tock” underneath her breath for the entire session. In her place, there’s a man who could make a titan look short. With his broad shoulders and intimidating physique, she was surprised to see how his eyes darted from the woman in the center of the circle, to the door. The group is more specifically targeted for those with some variation of PTSD, given how much of it there was to go around these days.  


It was easy to absorb every face around her, to silently judge their skittish looks, their dreamy eyes, their anger, or any number of the emotions which deemed them “out-of-place-for-normal-society”. Her eyes stopped on a boy who sat diagonal from her. He looked way too normal to be amongst all the other crazies. His eyes are perfectly clear, his back perfectly straight. It was easy to believe he’s a plant, a nurse posing as a patient so that he could be closer if trouble broke out, or to get in closer with the patients and figure out if they were thinking radical thoughts. Katniss always prided herself in her deductive reasoning, or she had when she had a career that required it, but it didn’t help her deduce why that perfect, sunny boy could be sitting here so casually. His face looked kind of familiar, in a distant sort of way. Something about it teased at the edges of a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.  


“Today, we’re going to match you with someone whom you share a common experience with. You probably wouldn’t even know it! You’ll get a brief period to talk and try to figure out this common experience,” the nurse said in her usual chipper tone. The worst part of it all is how genuine it is, how these people genuinely dedicate their lives to trying to save people like her from the darkness.  


“I’ll be reading off names,” she continued, “so feel free to stand up when you’re called and to give your partner a little wave!”  


Bile rose in her throat at the thought of interacting with a stranger. The names passed each other, one after another, until it was finally her time. She shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Peeta Mellark, to see the golden boy stand up and wave. Maybe he was mentally disturbed, only a mentally disturbed person would actually follow the nurse’s instructions to wave.  


He walked over, limping slightly. She was glad that he hadn’t forced her to make the pitiful move to her feet, to grab her cane and totter over like an old man. He had a totter-thing going as well, probably some sort of athlete, an injured leg and a damaged ego.  


“Hey! I’m Peeta, which you obviously know by now.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, towering above her. It would feel awkward to stand up but sitting down was making her feel pretty uncomfortable too.  


“Katniss,” she mutters, staring at the wall in front of her rather than those blue eyes, that same shade that she had had.  


“Nice to meet you Katniss, I’m pretty sure I know our common experience, though it might be cheating. You’re from District Twelve, right?”  


That got her to look up. She is rarely associated with her hometown, the metropolis known as the Capitol had too many immigrants and refugees to think about a tiny town like District Twelve. Her eyes catch his and she shudders at the intimacy, it’s just a few seconds, yet it feels more intense than anything she’s felt in years.  


She realizes that he’s still staring at her, waiting for an answer. She nods slowly, pondering how he would have known that. It’s obvious that she’s a Seam girl, to anyone who knew what made a Seam girl. Her coal black hair and dull gray eyes screamed of a long familial history of manual labor.  


She never would have had that problem. She had inherited their mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, so like the man before her. She wouldn’t have been wasting her time being analyzed by shrinks, she would have been running this happy little room, she would have been the one genuinely interested in making people feel better.  
“I knew you looked familiar, my father owned a bakery there before we moved.”  


Ah. The Mellark family, how could she forget them? It felt like a million years ago when they had left, around the same time as her father had died. The same time as the initial downward slope of her life. The same time as her first enlistment. They must have been twelve.  


“Well, we win the challenge then,” he said with another smile. She could feel him attempting to look her in the eyes, rather than at the mottled flesh creeping up her neck. She gets that a lot, the averted eyes, the awkward dwindling of conversation. He means to suggest that they could have no other shared experiences, their traumas placed them in different spots on the vast spectrum of PTSD. Most likely true and PTSD was far from her only problem.  


He looked into her eyes again, the moved to finally claim the chair next to her. It was silent for a minute or so, the other voices in the room softly surrounding them. He was obviously not the type that could enjoy sitting in silence, his entire body was already shifting to face her with ease. He leaned down and rolled the hem of his jeans up. Instead of pale flesh to match his arm, there was a metal contraption with only the structural semblance of a leg.  


“Amputation slash head trauma which has given me very slight long-term potentially permanent brain damage.” The words flowed effortlessly off his tongue, as though repeating them time after time has become a routine. “How about you?”  


His gentle, soft tone only offended Katniss, like all the doctors and nurses in this fake place. Isn’t it obvious? Doesn’t everyone know why she’s here? You could hardly go half an hour without seeing her face on a billboard or in an infomercial. She tells him as much and a slight touch of red graces his cheeks.  


“I know who you are, or who you are for them. That’s not all you are though, just how I’m not only an amputee. I know you have burns, you have a story for the cameras, but I don’t know you. If you don’t want me to know you, that’s fine.”  


She looks up again, losing herself in those deep blue eyes. For the first time in the many months since the accident, she isn’t thinking of the insurmountable grief. The leading nurse calls them back into circle rotation and she shakes off the brief relief.  


The rest of the meeting passes by with Katniss painfully aware of how close Peeta sits to her. He listens with attention that everyone else in the room lacks.  


When they’re finally dismissed, Katniss quickly reaches for her cane, trying to beat the sunshine boy out the door. But even with one fake leg, Peeta could keep pace with her painful steps. The cane doesn’t protect her from the painful friction of her legs. Unfortunately, some of the nerves in her legs had been preserved.  


“Would you want to get some coffee? We could finish our conversation from back there.”  


“I have a bus to catch,” she mutters, regretting her bitter tone but knowing that she could never make the walk back to her home.  


“I have a car, I could drive you wherever,” he offered, the end going up an octave with his obvious hope.  


It should be easy to deny him again, she had been doing so with people for so long that it felt like second nature. For some reason though, the words just won’t come out. It might be the fact that he has her eyes, her hair color, and she could never reject anything that she had asked of her. It also could be because they share a home she so desperately misses- or misses the idea of. Regardless of why, she finds herself agreeing to the short and difficult walk down the street to a little café.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta and Katniss go out for coffee and we learn a little bit more about their pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I thought I had posted this last Thursday and was trying to stick to a weekly schedule to pretend like I'm a somewhat consistent person. Thank you for all of the reviews and kudos, it really means a lot! Let me know if you guys have any requests or any questions/comments/concerns about anything!

At the front counter, she orders a black coffee, it earns her a scrunched up face from Peeta. Completing the stereotype of his appearance, he orders a green tea, swearing that coffee gives him a headache.  


“I have to get up at four for my job, I tried coffee about a dozen times and it’s just not worth it to me,” he says while they find a table. She knows it’s only been about fifteen minutes since she last sat down, yet it feels closer to hours.  


“Where do you work?”  


A smile spreads across his face, “It’s actually my family’s bakery, Capital Cakes? A great pun I know, we do a lot of stuff other than cakes though.”  


Katniss freezes, her cup halfway to her mouth. She knows the place, part of what should have been a happier period of her life.  


_“Katniss, please we aren’t even late, we’re usually late. I’m starving! Just a cinnamon roll, we’ll have plenty of time for security!”  
_

She had been eighteen, her first and last vacation, her first and last time that she was able to splurge on Prim. She can see her, see that smile she got when she really wanted something, and she so seldom wanted anything that Katniss could never have refused. Wanted. The past tense makes her heart contract painfully, how could it be past tense? She was so young, so pure and so innocent, everything about her had screamed life. How could she have died?  


It takes her a little longer to realize that Peeta’s still waiting for some kind of answer. In that moment, she once again acknowledges the similarities between him and her sister. It isn’t just the physical appearance; they both seem to just project hope and patience.  


She must have nodded or something, whatever she had done he took it as a cue to continue by asking her where she works. It made her feel bad, that all these little questions could cause such strong emotional responses. She must seem like some kind of total spaz.  


“I’m sure you’ve seen,” she avoids his eyes.  


“But what did you do before?” He presses gently.  


“I-“ she inhales and exhales, “I was in the armed forces, both armed forces.” She used to be so proud of that, even at her lowest moments, she could imagine that she was protecting Prim, that she was at least providing for Prim. It had been foolish to get involved with District 13, or it had been the right decision for her, and the wrong one for her family.  


“Thank you for your service.” Unlike the cold new president who had awarded her the small golden pin in the hospital room, she felt like he means it.  


“When did you leave 12?”  


“In the first place or permanently?”  


“Hm, in the first place?”  


“Around the same time as you actually,” she thought back to those days, the near starvation that had forced her into a decision that so many children were making at the time.  


“With your family?”  


“I enlisted.”  


His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t push her further. Being from 12, he knows that young people had few choices once they fall into the pits of poverty. Enlisting in the war against 13 was the option which had allowed her to preserve the most of her dignity. She thought that death by combat would have been the worst-case scenario, she hadn’t known about the experimentation back then- no one had.  


His eyes drift back to her burns and she knows he’s thinking that she must have gotten them in the war. Her viewers were kept away from the specifics of her wounds, focusing more on the generals of her tragedy even after all these years. Attention in any form tended to make her uncomfortable, ironic given her current fame and the drama of her appearance.  


“Your bakery, it’s right by the airport, right?” Peeta’s smile falters, and she suddenly realizes that that must be the source of his injury. 13 had taken out several blocks of the Capitol, she had seen the plans beforehand and the aftermath, he must have been within the bombing range. He still manages to nod, “Have you been?”  


_Yes, I went there with my sister. My sister is dead, the bakery might be gone. I’m still here though. _

Katniss thought, imagining the grief which such a statement could create.He continues to observe her, giving her time to form a response. She finally choked out something similar to agreement  


She wanted to say that she had been with Prim, but she couldn’t risk him asking about her. Maybe it was to avoid any sympathy, he must have known about her sister given how popular the story is. Maybe it was just because she literally had just met him, enough strangers already knew her tragic life story.  


A small part wanted to say it anyways, restraint had always been one of her talents though. He nodded anyways and left the topic where it was. They sat in a more comfortable silence, ignoring that elephant in the room, ignoring her lack of skin, ignoring his lack of a leg.  


“I should probably go, my roommate will be worried about me. I don’t usually- I mean I usually plan where I go pretty thoroughly.” He smiles sadly as she stands up, and he stands up as soon as she was on her feet. She appreciates that, when people got up before her, her slowness would stress her out.  


“Thank you for allowing me to take you out for coffee Miss Everdeen,” he did an exaggerated bow, made comical by the awkward angle of his prosthetic. “If I don’t see you again before our next group session, it would be a great injustice.”  


She might have laughed at one point in her life. Before things had gotten so dark, before she had lost the one person she had always sworn to protect. That was such a long time ago, laughter wasn’t as easy anymore.  


“Would you give me your phone number if I asked politely?” He offers his phone to her, a new contact page opened and everything. Katniss takes the phone and programs the number to the phone given to her by 13, the number always loaded down with requests she had no desire of fulfilling.  


She immediately starts moving towards the bus stop, but Peeta’s voice stops her. “I promised you a ride, remember?”  


She could reject the offer, but she knows that the last bus would leave in seven minutes. If she were anywhere close to her prime, she could have made it easily. Knowing how far from her prime she is, she forces herself to agree.  


Houses roll by them in a blur as they enter the suburban area of the Capitol. She had given him directions to her small shared lodgings efficiently, like she would have back in her military days. The ride was filled only by the soft sounds of some pop song on the radio and his off-key humming. She remembers how she and Prim used to sing to the radio back when her father was alive, when they used to drag the fixed-up radio out to the woods and look at the stars. Prim had no affinity for tone or rhythm, and while Katniss very obviously surpassed her in that ability, Prim’s death had stolen all desire for music.  


After a lifetime, the two pulled into Katniss’s driveway behind Haymitch’s old clinker.  


“How often do you go to the group therapy?”  


“Once a week,” she replied, already having one foot out the door. He nods shortly, “would you like to meet up before then?”  


She bites her lip, weighing the pros and cons carefully. It’s difficult for her to make friends, always had been and it had only gotten more so with her injuries. How could she turn away this boy with the blue eyes, a relic of a life she would never see again?  


“We could grab some fast-food, go to one of those new drive-in theaters?” He adds quickly, thinking her hesitation could stem from her lack of mobility.  


She pauses, “I don’t know-“  


“Our first day of kindergarten, you wore a red dress and you had your hair in two braids,” he bursts out suddenly, cutting her rejection short.  


“How could you possibly remember that?” Katniss says remembering how earlier, she hadn’t even recognized him.  


“Uh, I don’t know, somethings just stick? You stood up in music class, singing that one song when everyone else was so afraid. I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you back then, or before I left. I was shy, I don’t know. All I know is that when I left 12, you were the only person who I missed.”  


“You… missed me?”  


His cheeks turn pink, it could have been cute if she were the type to call boys cute. In that brief moment, she found herself considering how different life could have been. If she had noticed him, if he had talked to her, if she could have missed him like he missed her.  


“I was a creepy six-year-old I know, my brothers wouldn’t let me forget it. The point being, after I moved, I never forgot you. When I saw you today, I figured it could be a second chance. I know you’re a celebrity now, but I figured I could finally get to tell you. Maybe laugh about it with you? I don’t know, that sounded a lot better in my head, I don’t mean to be a stalker or anything, I just-“  


“Peeta,” she cut him off, “I’ll get some fast food with you.” He smiles, and she did a kind of half grin in response. She takes that as her cue to finally escape from the awkwardness of the car.


End file.
